{"id":2707,"date":"2014-10-19T17:18:32","date_gmt":"2014-10-19T17:18:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/?p=2707"},"modified":"2014-10-21T02:53:02","modified_gmt":"2014-10-21T02:53:02","slug":"suitcase-kate-pope","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/suitcase-kate-pope\/","title":{"rendered":"The Suitcase by Kat Pope"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Werewolf<\/a>
Werewolf by Paul Mudie<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The Suitcase<\/h1>\n

by Kat Pope<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are you going at this hour?\u201d Fiona stood in the doorway, a hand at either side of the frame.<\/p>\n

Percival thought about trying to explain, then shook his head. \u201cI\u2019m not going anywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re packing a suitcase.\u201d She pitched her voice in a way that suggested that she was willing to forgive this apparent lapse of sanity, as long as he was willing to abandon course immediately.<\/p>\n

He stared down at his suitcase. Inside was a blue button-down shirt, a pair of jeans, underthings, and thick socks. Percival frowned, took out the cotton shirt with its shiny horn buttons, and replaced it with a thick flannel one. He\u2019d rather be too warm than too cold, and didn\u2019t want to pack a lot, in case something happened.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m waiting.\u201d Fiona purred like a cat about to strike.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou weren\u2019t supposed to be here tonight.\u201d Each time he said it, her expression tightened minutely. He hated doing this to her; he could practically smell the anger rising under the sultry scent of her musky perfume.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted to surprise you.\u201d She fingered the collar of the jacket he\u2019d warned her not to take off. She hadn\u2019t, but he couldn\u2019t help but speculate on what she might not be wearing under it.<\/p>\n

Percival shook his head. He closed the suitcase and clasped it. The red leather was creased and scarred in a hundred places, but it was light and tough and waterproof and had served him long and well.<\/p>\n

\u201cPerce, it\u2019s after eight. I thought we could have an adult sleepover, since my kids are at their dad\u2019s . . . they\u2019ll be home tomorrow.\u201d Fiona\u2019s expression grew strained. \u201cWhere on earth are you going? It\u2019s the middle of the week. You have work. I have work.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why don\u2019t you go back home, and get some sleep?\u201d He\u2019d meant the question to be kind, a suggestion, but his voice was rough and sounded angry.<\/p>\n

Fiona\u2019s eyes narrowed. \u201cFine.\u201d He knew this was the beginning of what could be a relationship-ending fight, but what was he supposed to do, tell her the truth? He shook his head, distracted by the way her bare throat and wrists were swallowed by the shiny black coat. All she wanted was for him to set aside his packing and take her to bed . . .<\/p>\n

He shivered, caught his breath. \u201cI have to go.\u201d He gasped, frightened by how close he\u2019d come to staying. He grabbed his suitcase, white knuckled, and walked toward the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeriously, Perce.\u201d She lay her hand against his chest in that way that made him want to puff it out, to flex, to impress.<\/p>\n

Damn it. He had to go. It was nearly moonrise, and he\u2019d stayed too long already.<\/p>\n

\u201cMove.\u201d He snapped. He didn\u2019t want to manhandle her, he wasn\u2019t that kind of guy\u2014which was precisely why he needed to get out of here. Now.<\/p>\n

Because there was no such thing as a mild-mannered werewolf.<\/p>\n

###<\/p>\n

Katherine Jean Pope was born in Ashtabula, Ohio in 1981, and grew up near Cincinnati. She graduated from the University of Cincinnati in 2008 and spent the next five years traveling and teaching English in Taiwan, Thailand, and China before returning to the states. Muse is her first published novel, though she is hard at work writing more adventures.<\/p>\n

You can see more of Kate’s work on Amazon at here author’s profile<\/a>\u00a0or check out her book.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cWhere are you going at this hour?\u201d Fiona stood in the doorway, a hand at either side of the frame.<\/p>\n

Percival thought about trying to explain, then shook his head. \u201cI\u2019m not going anywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2664,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_bbp_topic_count":0,"_bbp_reply_count":0,"_bbp_total_topic_count":0,"_bbp_total_reply_count":0,"_bbp_voice_count":0,"_bbp_anonymous_reply_count":0,"_bbp_topic_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_reply_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_forum_subforum_count":0,"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[347,88],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2707","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-horror-contest-2014","category-horror"],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2707","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2707"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2707\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2709,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2707\/revisions\/2709"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2664"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2707"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2707"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2707"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}